What We Fight
by smorthi
Summary: Miles Morales, Universe 1610, has officially cemented himself as Spider-Man. He has faced the backlash, the trials, and tribulations, but he stood his ground. Swallowing down his fear and stepping into the dark. But what if those layers of fear had slowly peeled back, trapping him and putting him in the face of the one thing he swore to conceal?
1. Prologue

_NY, Queens | December 9th, 2035_

_EARTH-2718_

The sounds of jail cells violently shook and reverberated in the large, prison. The highly placed windows narrowly denied access for rays of sunlight that entered through. Prisoners hollered and cursed, crying and groaning, although the effort was pointless. No one would save them, not now. This was every day for the facility. Soon, two double doors swung open, and two men approached from them. A man stood in front of an hair was cleanly shaven off but wore a well-cut stubble beard. His arms were locked in handcuffs tightly, and he wore the usual prisoner attire which was an orange shirt and pants. The officer behind him had hard, blue eyes. A black set of hair on his head, and a beard that stretched out past his chin, he was now just entering his mid-40s, while the prisoner looked about in his 20s.

Slowly, the prisoner took one step forward, examining the prisoners and the prison around him while the officer stalked behind him closely. The stench of sweat and the apparent longing without a shower for several prisoners filled both their noses. Their shoes clattered off the pale, rough ground made of marble, and their eardrums were penetrated by the abrupt yelling of prisoners in their cells on both sides. Some cursed, some spat, hissing, and writhing like a snake between those iron bars. These were no men anymore.

_Monsters, criminals, scum, maybe all of the above, but nonetheless... _

They were all the same, Felton thought to himself. You could think of any harsh adjective to describe these guys. There was no line drawn to separate them because a line exists to grip the good from the bad, but there weren't any opposites here, not one. The two continued to walk. Their figures passing by the hard, malevolent gazes set behind the cells. Felton felt his body mutter. It was evident in his slightly shivering hands and the thudding of his heart, and he soon took the realization of what he felt. What did he have to fear? They were clearly no threat to him.

"Is there something the matter?" The officer asked.

Felton thought he had hidden himself and his emotions easily, yet the officer was able to figure him out in a short time, and with that, he felt his face heat up in embarrassment and frustration. Fortunately, his hands ceased its shaking, and he answered, rather bitterly, "Just keep _yourself_ in check. We're trying to make this fast and easy, got it?" The officer didn't acknowledge the sharpness in his voice and Felton thought he would react angrily to taking orders from someone wearing orange. A uniform for murderers. He looked over his shoulder after he sat on the thought for a while, "Correct me if I'm wrong but you've worked here for nineteen years and from what I have heard, you've got quite a list of accomplishments. How does it feel knowing that you're betraying your-"

_"Don't."_ The officer spat darkly with disdain. With hatred, "If you know what's good for you, don't. This is blackmail and sabotage. I'm not betraying a damn thing. If I could, I would turn on you in an instant, don't you _ever_ forget that."

"And don't _you_ forget that if you do, you know the consequences that will play against the both of us,"

The officer held his silence at the remark.

_And he damn well knows it's true too. He can't go down like that. Not with the reputation and life he has. I'm in control here._

"Felton," He called his name, and Felton could tell the man tried to scrape the boiling distaste faintly weighing in his tone. He spoke slowly, but angrily, almost through gritted teeth, "When this is all over... when you finally get what you want... How often would you think of the repercussions of your actions? How long do you think you can get away with what you're doing?"

"Nothing lasts forever, officer. I am fully aware of that. However, I am not afraid of time. I'm not afraid of anything, quite frankly. What I am afraid of however is if we can get through this." Felton smirked, "How the both of us criminals will get through this _together_," It took no fool to recognize the emphasis on "together". The officer was practically a criminal now. One of _them._

_And what better way to have some fun by rubbing it in his face._

The officer went into a whisper, he was closer behind Felton now, "Quit trying to mold this arrogant, tough guy act. You were trembling before, you didn't think I noticed? It doesn't come off as a surprise to me. Criminals always trip over their own fear."

Felton looked at the prisoners on his right again, "Trust me, officer, I don't fear any of these clowns."

"You don't have to fear anyone. You can also fear yourself."

He chuckled at the officer, "Well, we'll see where that leads won't we?" The pair were nearing Felton's now new cell and seeing how there was no-one poking their head out and spitting a handful of cutting insults, it was most definitely empty.

_How disappointing... I expected some type of entertainment for my visit. You have guys that want to fight each other for no reason at all... I guess for dominance or something. Would have been amusing to see someone put up a fight._

"Let's see how tough you are without your gun!" Someone shouted behind them. Felton was sure that comment was directed towards the officer, and he was tempted to look back to see his reaction but kept his eyes forward. "Wait, is that the officer whose wife died last week!?"

And that's where Felton heard the officers footsteps come to a stop behind him. Felton stopped seconds after he did.

"It was, wasn't!?"

And Felton knew about it too.

_The Death of Rosie Rain Jenkins, maybe it's more appropriate to say the Murder of Rosie Rain Jenkins. _

"And Everyone here knows about it. EVERYONE! We were a little saddened by her death... I remember she paid a visit here, with you. She was a fine thing, wasn't she? Beautiful brown hair, blue eyes. I'm sure you remember, right?"

Felton scoffed to himself.

_It's not like he was her husband or anything. Of course, he doesn't remember._

He looked over at the prisoner rambling on and got a good look at him. Cell-A09 was cemented in the wall above the cell in bold text. The guy talking looked about two hundred pounds, six feet tall, and a muscular. His hair, like Felton's, was completely shaven off, and like the officer he had a stubble beard, the only flaw was that it was terribly shaved. Bruises and cuts surfaced his arms and face; some freshly new, some old and healing, but still vivid.

The prisoner went on, "Beautiful blue eyes- wow, just amazing. I think maybe I caught her checking me out too. Everyone does have their types that make them go wild, right? You're a lucky guy to get something like that..."

The officer started to walk again, Felton was about to follow.

"And you want to know something? We tell stories about what we would do if we were alone with her!"

And once again, the officer came to an abrupt stop.

"It's the only way we know how to get to you officers. It makes you tick, doesn't it? Angry such a nice woman had to die by the hands of people like us."

Silence lingered for a moment as all the prisoners were starting to chime in on the confrontation with crazed laughter and taunting. Felton kept his gaze held on the officer. He was slightly looking down to where his cap hid his face entirely. Maybe to hide the anger.

_Or maybe to hide the pain._

He glared at the prisoner again.

_You are pulling on some dangerous ropes here, pal, and you might not like what comes down. _

The prisoner sensed his gaze on him, and they both made eye contact as his laughter slowly died down. "And you must be new here," He addressed, "Welcome to the city of iron bars. The name's Slash, the guy next to me is Reggie. Been in 'ere for ten years.

Felton looked back at the officer, and then back at the grinning prisoner. He narrowed his eyes, and added coldly, "You won't make it past eleven,"

Slash's brows jumped, then his own features morphed into a frown, "Ask anyone in here, I'm not one to mess with. I've been here back and forth since I was twelve, and I've survived ever since. I assure you, I'm the strongest man in here."

"You were... until I arrived," Felton felt a smirk tug at his lips.

"Mind me askin' what the hell is your problem?" Slash barked, now angry, "You don't know how much power I have in here, pal. If I wanted to I could bargain with some of these officers to make your life torture. Ya hear? I dare you to ask anyone in this prisoner if I'm the most dangerous man here! I bet I could even say I'm the most dangerous man in the world!" Slash laughed loudly again, and other prisoners hesitantly joined him. This time the number was fewer.

Felton turned around to fully look him in the eyes.

"You raise your voice again, and I _swear_ to you... not a doctor alive will be able to fix what I do to you."

The prison fell into a hush. Felton himself was caught off guard by the threat and eyed him. The officer whirled around to face Slash who rose a curious brow. The sudden threat took him by surprise, but he had no fear looming in his eyes. Felton felt disgust twist his stomach into a knot as the prisoner merely smirked. Slash knew he would touch a nerve.

Soon Slash noticed now that the prisoners in the other cells were completely silenced and now the only sound filling the air was the sound of shoes hitting the ground hauntingly. All eyes were trained on the officer. His hat covered his eyes, or to be more precise, his entire face as Felton walked behind him.

"He's convinced you won't do anything to him," Felton put in, his tone serious, "I suggest you don't either."

The officer said nothing. Felton screamed at the officer inside his head. He was about to do something foolish, reckless even. Felton looked at Slash then at the other prisoner beside him named Reggie. A blind man could sense the fear radiating off the guy. He was practically shaking.

Slash took notice to this as well, and he gave the man a look of disgust, "These officers won't do shit Reggie, calm the hell down."

"But he doesn't look very hap-"

"I CAN SEE THAT!"

_I don't think you can._

Slash felt panic rise for a moment. He scanned around the prison and everyone was watching the altercation go down. _Everyone. _He felt outnumbered and cornered.

_"Keep_ your eyes on me," The officer spat. An angry, sinister tone lingering in his voice. The officer stood in front of the cell. It felt like Slash was looking at two loaded guns as the officer looked at him with those angry blue eyes. Slash had to suppress the fear mustering in his stomach, holding his ground, he asked, "Is there something I can help you with officer?"

The officer didn't reply. Instead, he looked back at Felton - who was a giving an expression of disapproval - then back at Slash. His eyes quickly caught that the officer was slowly reaching for his gun while keeping his eyes trained on him. Slash froze for a second and involuntarily stepped away from the cell, bracing for the worst. The officer gripped the pistol and pulled it out of the holster with his left hand. Letting the muzzle point down to the ground.

Slash's heart started to gain pace as it pounded against his chest. Not out of fear, but excitement. Slash had been shot, stabbed, and beaten to a bloody pulp, but there was something about all of that excited him. An officer that was willing to actually cross that line, to kill him right here and now. To give up everything just to murder an insignificant prisoner like himself! It was spectacular to see and be a part of!

Meanwhile, Felton straightened his arms and a small key fell from his sleeve.

Slash grinned, throwing out his arms like he was waiting for an embrace, "What are you waiting for? Shoot me! DO IT! Why hesitate!?"

"The answer is simple," Felton walked beside the glaring officer. Who held handcuffs in his right hand. The officers flipped the gun over so he could instead grip it by the sides of the muzzle, and he gave Felton the gun. The unchained prisoner now pointed the gun at Slash.

"Because he's not _me._"

And a loud bang went off inside the cell, and seconds after. Slash's body dropped. Soon a puddle of blood surfaced, Slash's mouth and eyes were open in almost frozen surprise. Reggie could only look at the body in horror. Felton could even admit that he enjoyed that.

"You... you killed him."

He pointed the gun towards Reggie. "Tell me, _Reggie_, this guy said that he was the toughest here and with all due respect to the now dead man, I severely doubted it. Because _I'm_ here now," Felton took in Reggie's look of fear, knowing his words got to him, "And now I want you to tell me where Wilson Fisk is located?"

"Wilson Fisk... he's uh, in his own cell. I don't know which cell and where though."

Felton felt himself clench the gun tighter, "That's not satisfying enough, Reggie."

And apparently Reggie sensed his Felton's own impatience, and panic flared in his eyes, "I-I don't know! That's all I have to say, I swear!"

"All you have to say is you don't know?"

"I..."

Felton sighed, "I guess that leads me to another question. Ever take drama class in high school?"

Reggie hesitated for a second, "Uh, no. Why?"

Felton smiled and tossed the gun through the bars, in which Reggie instinctively caught it, "You're going to need some pretty good acting."

The cop unhinged the handcuffs that Felton gave back to him after he gave Felton the gun. He turned around, unlocked them with a click and they opened. Felton put his wrists inside the cuffs and the officer closed them with a snap. Soon running in the distance could be heard. Another officer yelled not too far, "The gunshot was down here!"

Reggie's face brightened with panic in which Felton smiled, "Looks like you're a bit out of luck." The officer next to him was horrifyingly expressionless as he proceeded to grab the wrist of the man and lead him in front as they began walking away.

"HEY!" Reggie cried, "You just can't leave me here! Please! I didn't even do this!"

The two continued walking, "The way I see it, you're the one with the gun,"

"But I-"

"PUT DOWN THE WEAPON!"

_Right on queue..._

Hearing this, the two picked up the pace.

"It wasn't me! I-It was h-"

"Shut up!" And a loud thud thundered in the prison. Thousands of prisoners cheered over the sound of the beating in the background. Felton didn't dare look back at the scene as he didn't want to look as suspicious, but unluckily the two heard rapid footsteps behind them and they won't into a sudden stop. Moving like robots almost in unison. She looked about 5'5 in height, lithe, pale, and had short brown hair that barely stretched past the back of her neck.

"Um, officer Adams, I think this is your gun." She held out the gun by the grip in front of her, "I, uh think it's yours... I don't reall-"

The officer gave her a soft smile which Felton could tell wasn't genuine, "Yeah, I think I dropped it by mistake and that prisoner somehow got a hold of it,"

Her black eyes then switched over towards the prisoner he had, "Is he new here? I don't think I have ever seen him before..." Her eyes were intense and questioning, it was like looking straight into a flashlight. He badly wanted to look away, "I can take him in for you if you want. Just for a favor."

Officer Adams adopted a smile that was easily spotted as fake, "This is Tom Felton convicted of murder and no thank you, I'm putting him behind bars myself. " The officer and the prisoner then exchanged quick glances at each other.

_Get rid of her. _

The officer read the message set in his eyes and he looked back at the female officer in front of him. However, the female officer was examining the prisoner up and down and narrowed her eyes at him. Tom felt his heart skip a beat.

"Are you sure?" She asked almost skeptically.

"Positive," Adams replied curtly.

She took a deep breath, "Well then uh, I'll see you around... if you need to talk to me about..." She trailed off.

Adams rose a brow, "About?"

She shook her head, "Nothing nevermind." And with that, she quickly turned around and walked away in a hurry.

After she was completely gone, "Did you make sure to disable all of the cameras?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, we should be in the clear."

"Now we just need to find Mr. Fisk. Give him a little talking to."

"He's in a heavily guarded prison though. I doubt they'll let me pass considering my rank."

"Then we'll force our way through."

Adams gave him a glance, "They'll be on our tails after that and even if we do get out of here the whole city will be chasing us too."

Tom went silent for a while. Things were about to get tight. "Then we'll improvise."

"How sure are you that we'll get through this?"

Tom wanted to scold him forever questioning his intentions, but he was right. It had to be a little bit more complex than just improvising, especially here.

"Listen, I know you want to find this universe's you, but-"

"Hey! Are you going to put him in or just stand there!" An officer from a distance yelled. Both of them froze up, but Adams quickly yelled back, "He's giving me a little bit of trouble, on our way right now!" Adams tightened his grip on Tom's shoulder and together they walked through the corridors.

"We should be thankful we're even alive right now," Adams muttered.

Tom frowned, "Don't be such a pessimist, Adams. We made it this far because we actually thought things through. We can do that again. You're a smart guy, right? Plus, the officers are not all that bright," Felton heard an angry snort. A cold breeze slipped through two double doors as they were pushed open. Behind them were three officers dressed just like Adams and their eyes were set on Tom specifically. He hoped that they would just pass by but no, they blocked them from moving forward.

_These guys don't look very happy._

Tom gulped.

"Where are you taking him, officer?"

"Cell B-1218. His name is Tom Felton, charged for murder."

The three officers looked at each other.

"But Cell B-1218 is that way," The officer pointed back towards the way they came.

_Shit._

But, Adams was quick to recover, "I just thought I dropped my tazer around here so I came back to find it. I'm only carrying him around because he's known for escaping out of his cell before."

"But isn't he new here?"

"He was transferred. They postponed his court meeting at the other jail so they pushed it here."

The officer in the middle took a step forward, "I don't remember ever seeing a Tom Felton in court, Adams," The officer looked at both of his colleagues, "or... maybe we did? I'm not too sure."

"You don't believe me?"

"The whole image isn't looking too believable, Adams."

"Are you trying to accuse me for-"

"I didn't accuse you of anything, _yet._"

_You worked here for years and you can't even tell a decent lie...?_

Felton wanted to chime in. He had to, or things were going to get messy.

_It would be pointless. They would never listen to a prisoner. Dammit, Adams, you just screwed this entire thing up. Just had to jump to conclusions so soon, didn't you?_

The officer narrowed his eyes, "Now, I'm really waiting for a good explanation of what's going on here. You wouldn't want me to get Captain Armstrong in here would you?"

"You would do something so unnecessary?"

"Yes," The officer replied bluntly and he took another step forward, "I would. Because Adams... Tom Felton was supposed to be brought here next week and _that_ man doesn't look anything like him. The real Felton has a scar on the bottom of his chin whereas this guy has a scar on his cheek."

"I guess you're half-right, officer, but... he's no man."

The officer chuckled incredulously, "Then what is-"

Felton all but broke out of the cuffs easily with his strength, aiming towards the officers and released a fury of webs towards the eyes. Adams taking advantage of the surprise attack ran up to the middle officer and whipped up his left elbow, ramming it into his chin and afterward, grabbing the full set of hair on top of his head with both hands and pulled him down to smack against his sharp knee. The officer howled in pain as he staggered back beside the two blinded officers. Blood stuck onto Adams pants.

Adams looked over at Felton, "I'll handle these three, you go after Fisk," he said.

Felton for a moment agreed to this with a nod, but by the time they both looked up, the two officers had ripped off the web from their eyes. Felton with narrowed eyes, clenched his fists tight. All of a sudden, the current thoughts floating around his mind had ceased. What substituted was a sudden urge. An urge that whipped through his body like an arrow flailing through the air. His calculating eyes darted from one officer to another. Planning his next move like an assassin in the night. And in swift fashion, Felton used his long strides to close the distance easily; throwing an energetic right hook toward the middle guard's already broken nose, then followed this up by grabbing the officer's collar, twirling his own body along with the officer's body for added force and accurately throwing him toward the officer on his right; watching their bodies collide before hitting the wall then the ground with a thud. However, his senses went on the immediate prowl.

The officer lingering on his left reached for his gun with haste and Felton found the muzzle glaring down upon his back. Felton moved his right hand over his stomach, aimed underneath his left pit, and fired a long web toward the muzzle of the gun that flawlessly stuck. There, he felt that moment of impact with the gun through the web fired, and he irresistibly gave a strengthful tug, pulling the officer towards him. However, the gun had fired and Felton spun his body around to his right, to dodge the bullet and to throw his leg up in the air and dropping it in a precise, downwards arc. Allowing the heel of his shoe to completely smash into the back of the officer's skull. The officer choked out a loud grunt as he made his descent towards the hard ground.

Again his senses alerted him.

Felton spiraled around again, throwing out his right hand, and firing another web towards the officer slowly trying to stand on his two feet again. The web raced through the air, the front of the web spreading out as if it was mimicking a giant hand reaching to grab something. Soon the web connected to the man's chest, and Felton with only his left arm yanked him towards himself and Felton caught his neck.

"I'll only ask once." Felton had let all the anger loose now. He was applying pressure to the neck and he could fear the officer's breath become panicked and limited.

Felton vigorously spat, "Where. Is. Fisk."

"I-I don't kn-"

"That isn't an answer!" Felton all but shouted, applying more pressure to the neck.

"He's... he's..."

"Felton, you're killing him," Adams yelled, but Felton ignored him.

"FELTON!" Adams all but shouted.

"I DON'T CARE!" Felton yelled back, "I'll destroy everyone in this building if I have to!"

"Are you hearing yourself- think! We're wasting time!"

"I'm getting impatient. It's either you tell me what I need to know, or I take your life away."

"I..." The officer was getting paler, "He's..."

_Finally... say it, you bastard._

Felton frowned. "Where? He's where?" Felton shook the officer's body like a ragdoll, a thick cloud of anger evident in his eyes. Silence loomed over them. Felton no longer felt the officer's heavy breathes and he no longer saw the light in his eyes, "No... NO!"

"He's dead. You killed him."

"Shouldn't have made me ask twice."

Adams stated matter-a-factly, "We promised each other that the only people that would die tonight were those rotten prisoners, or _us!_ Have you completely lost it!?"

Felton looked at the officer for a while before completely throwing him to the side. He looked up at Adams, "Regardless on whether we killed someone or not, we're still criminals. The both of us. Whether we kill someone tonight, they won't change their views on me, but when they found out you were working with me. They will definitely change their view of _you._"

"What the hell happened to you? Don't you remember who you were!?"

"Spider-Man died a long time ago, Adams. People don't believe in him anymore. _I_ don't believe in him anymore."

"What type of talk is that? Your whole idea was that anyone could wear the mask. Anyone could take up that mantle. You're stomping all over what was given to you. How would _Peter_ feel about this?"

_INTRUDER ALERT ON SECTOR SIX_

The intense voiced screamed through the speaker on the wall. Felton and Adams looked at each other.

"I'll handle this, you go find him," Adams suggested.

Felton was a little caught off guard, "But you're just a mere man. You won't be able to take them all on."

"I know."

Footsteps were thudding loudly outside of the door. They were nearing and time was running out. Adams glared at Felton more harshly.

"Go!"

And Felton ran off in the other direction.

The footsteps were getting louder. Adams closed his eyes and really listened.

_Sounds like a stampede out there. _

Adams glanced over his shoulder at the three bodies that were already without movement. He jogged over towards them and picked up one of the already loaded guns. After a quick examination over it, he put his hand at the top of the muzzle and cocked it back, ensuring that a round remained inside the chamber in which it did. His eyes switched over to the double doors again, and he caught the shadows slipping underneath the door.

* * *

Felton sprinted through the corridors and slammed into the double doors with his shoulders. Feeling the biting, cold air start to radiate around his body. The room had been completely dark. Only light looked down upon one single, cube-shaped cell. A figure stood in it with his back turned towards Felton dressed in the usual prisoner attire, bright orange, and his height was stunning to Felton. This had to have been him.

"Wilson Fisk, I presume?"

The man didn't turn around.

"My name is Tom Felton. I've come to have a little chat with you."

There he finally turned around. Wilson Fisk. The powerful businessman that pulls the strings behind the crimes of New York. All hair shaven off, eyes cold and expressionless, Felton stared him down with fists balled.

"Tom Felton..." He murmured to himself quietly. His eyes scanned over Felton, examining him as if some priceless artifact. "I assume you've come here to kill me like all the rest that have tried?"

_So much for reputation. _

"I've just come here for answers," Felton added in an assuring tone. His hands feeling numb.

"I'm not the guy you're lookin' for. I don't give answers. Not to anyone."

"Did you say the same thing in the interrogation room too? I surely hope not. Because you really don't want to know _my_ method of the hard way."

Fisk stayed silent.

"I'd say it seems like you look kinda comfy behind those bars. The setting fits you well. Especially after all the people you've killed."

Again, no reply.

"C'mon, you've spent years trying to kill Spider-Man, and he's finally dead. You must feel some sort of relief from that right? He's driven you down to your core. Beaten you down until your own dignity was belittled by that overwhelming feeling of shame. It cost you your wife, it cost your son. It cost you _everything_ Fisk-"

"AND SO WHAT!?" He roared, "I could never get my hands on that little freak! And now that he's gone, how can I pay him back for what he did to me!?"

Felton's noticed his body had tensed and his hand for a moment was quivering. He was pulling back on that instinct to attack at the abrupt shout. Fisk's walls had easily been broken down. He had revealed himself all too easily- how pathetic he looked.

"Years have passed and now I realize how much of my life was wasted upon this idea of childish revenge. My passion was to change this city, but there will always be that one person to stand in your way. If you want something done it requires persistence. I never gave up on what I wanted. Manipulation was just another piece to the puzzle as were the rest of my crimes."

Felton scoffed.

_Surely not what I expected of a crimelord._

"It sounds to me you were playing the childish game long before Spider-Man ever came into the picture. You have no one else to blame but yourself."

"I wanted to create an empire. I had a dream-"

Felton walked up to the cell, "You had delusions. You thought that what? You could create this powerful empire without having that someone to resist those wicked morals? There will always be resistance in this world, Fisk, only the weak break apart, and you did."

Felton's eyes switched over behind him, peaking through the small rectangular windows on the double doors. He could hear the shoes of dozens of officers with probably loaded guns become more and more audible. He looked back at Fisk, then back at the doors. Fisk was completely broken down and for a moment Felton thought he would work with him to get out of here.

_He's already too ruined enough_ though.

"Why do you care so much? What business is it to you?"

The question pricked at his skin, "Because you're a useful tool to me, Fisk,"

"Well, I don't know if you've noticed, stranger, but your _tool_ is stuck in a cell."

Felton gave a toothy grin, "Well a handyman always takes care of his products," Felton began walking, "Now let's get you out of here."

Felton aimed towards the prison cell door and shot a solid web towards it. Pulling on it, and the door was snatched off, sliding against the floor with a loud screech. Felton glared at Fisk, and once again he looked back over his shoulder towards doors as loud footsteps reached his ears, and with extreme force, cops bust through the door with extreme force. Felton's swiftly spun around, bracing himself to dodge bullets, but before he could pinpoint how many cops there were. A loud bang sounded off in the dark room. Thick smoke devoured the atmosphere and spread through the room. Felton found himself swatting some of the smoke from his vision; his eyes clouded by the pale, transparent matter.

Now, he could hear - left and right - boots beating against the ground like a drum. He was completely surrounded. Then, he heard violent juddering above him, and craned his neck to look up into the ceiling. It sounded like...

_A Helicopter, dammit. I took too long, and now I got guns glaring at me like angry bulls. I make one sudden move and I'm toast._

Felton's heart clenched, he slowly looked around him. He could almost feel the red dots squared on his body. Felton had never been completely vulnerable like this. It felt overwhelming, but it was also angering because it was such a rarity for someone of his skill and precise battle-planning. Felton slowly slipped his hand into his pocket and in retaliation, he heard the cocking of guns around him, however, he let his left hand rest in his pocket.

_Maaaaybe getting a little bit too arrogant there. _

"Mr. Felton," Someone regarded him with a cold, deep tone at the doors. Felton looked over at the man. He could see a tall, shadow behind the smoke, and what emerged was no surprise to him. Felton could also make out that the man wore glasses, and he wore a black suit, a black dress shirt, and black pants, along with black shoes. "I implore you to think about making you're next move very carefully."

Felton frowned.

_No doubt about it._

"Dr. Curt Connors, it's been a hell of a long time, hasn't it?"

"Maybe it has. I don't really keep track of time these days, or maybe I just don't care enough." Connors coughed into his hand, then spoke again, "But to get to the point, I see you've caused a bit of wreckage in my facility."

Felton looked around at the guns pointing at him, Fisk was even looking at him too. Felton looked back and Connors and shrugged.

"Oops."

"Well, you're forgiven, yes? Since we have you trapped, and the prisoner you murdered. I guess you can go right in the cell you murdered him in."

"Aren't you going to bury the body somewhere?"

"I'd much rather let it rot in there with you. He was due for the death penalty anyway so you actually made our job a lot easier."

Felton gestured to the officers with guns, "This is what you call easy? Knocked three of your officers unconscious."

"Not three, two. You killed the other one remember?"

Felton threw up his hands to act innocent, "What makes you think it was me? Could've been shot accidentally."

Connors coughed in his hand again, "The web."

_Oh._

"So now you're a convicted murderer. Such a pity, Felton. You were Spider-Man now you're a criminal. How far you've fallen. It's a shame, really, and pertinent to that, you used to have a friend that was close. Think she was from another universe, but I haven't really put much thought to it."

And Felton knew exactly who he was referring to, but he wouldn't _dare_ utter that name.

"I suppose... Adams is dead?"

Connors shook his head, "Escaped. He worked with you didn't he?"

"He had to, or I would play the adjudicator and decide whether to kill him or his friends. Whatever happens now decides that."

The two glared each other down. Inspecting each other, waiting for one to make the first move. Felton's hand twitched a little.

"I guess I'm far from ever convincing you to go back to doing good. Making this city better, because you're too far in the deep end."

Felton frowned, "You don't know a thing about me," A bitter laugh escaped from Felton's lips, "How easy for you to judge me from the sidelines. You _cops._ You've become so forceful over the past years you don't deserve to call yourselves the good guys. The people out there fear you. Fear how far you will go to show who's in control here. They fear the government too, considering you work for them and obey them like strict dogs."

"Crime has decreased ever since the establishment of The End Order. We took what Spider-Man gave us and-"

"Stomped all over it," Felton took a step closer, and he knew the cops were itching to pull that trigger, but Felton wasn't fazed, "Look real closely, Connors. Have they cured the Lizard side of you yet? What did they use to call you? Lizard guy or Lizard man right? How do you think people would feel knowing their leader was a murderous giant pile of chemical mess-up that terrorized this city? What if they knew that you attempted to murder Spider-Man and that the rumors were always true."

Connors lip twitch, "What rumors?"

"That _you_ killed Spider-Man."

"You dare assume something like that?"

"It does make sense after all. You had this urge to murder and torture Spider-Man, but you failed even as The Lizard. Eventually, they cure you, but how would we know that you didn't share that same intent even if you were a human again?"

"Cured, yes," He coughed again, and adjusted his glasses, "but we still have to get rid of this tiny insignificant disease rotting around in our city."

"And what's that doc?"

"You."

_Shit!_

"FIRE!"

Felton threw out his hand and slapped the complexly built watch on his wrist. In an instant, a circular portal summoned that whirled rapidly, and Felton sparing no hesitance jumped inside the portal as he heard the sound of gunshots go off which then he made his inevitable flea into the next universe.

* * *

"HOLD YOUR FIRE! HOLD YOU FIRE!" Connors shouted, hoping that anyone didn't accidentally get shot by the rapid fire of bullets. He looked around and saw that all the officers were clueless, but Connors knew exactly what he did.

_Traveled to another universe again. _

Connors watched a group of four officers gather around a sitting officer. He feared for the worst. Then something else caught Connors gaze. Bigger than the gathered group he had just seen. This time all of the officers excluding the group of four were gathered around a body and it was inside the cell. Then, he replayed the events that had transpired and he saw a couple of officers still shooting at something.

_Fisk._

He soon realized.

_Somehow he broke out and __tried to attack one of our guys, and it gave Felton a chance to get away. But Fisk knew he would die by doing something like that, and Fisk barely knew Felton. I know that for sure. Either Felton is very convincing with his words, or Fisk... chose to die that way._

A female officer approached beside him, "Sir, one of our men are hurt from a bullet." She was one of the best officers here. Her eyes were the piercing blue, and her hair black. Her right hand was covered entirely with a black leather glove. It was rumored that someone burned her hand as she was a child, maybe when she had been going through her rough childhood. She was eighteen.

Connors sighed, "As expected. How bad is it?"

"Not that much bleeding but just to be safe we're already transporting him to a nearby hospital, and we'll get Fisk's body out of here soon. No update on Adams."

_Another weight on my shoulders, I feel exhausted._

He looked at the officer and smiled, "It's good to see you Cadet Armstrong. I see you're trying your best to beat your father in the rankings, hmm?"

She looked away and laughed, "I'll never get to where he's at. Soon he's going to retire, and I want to be here looking after this place when he's gone."

Connors looked over at Fisk's body. There was now emergency staff dressed in white tending to Fisk's body and the blood on the ground.

"Oh, and we found something else," She pulled out a pocket-watch, entirely black, but the inside contained a small picture. Two teenagers Connors could guess. They were grinning and they were close together while someone was in the background of a bus it looked like sleeping. One was in a Spider-Man outfit, a little bit too big for him. The female was in her own outfit and her hairstyle...

_Jesus, did she fight a cat?_

He closed the watch and put it in his own pocket for closer examination later, and sighed.

"What happened to Felton?"

"He got away, you know, inter-dimensional travel it's a thing now. He was the one to truly utilize it by creating a device to travel to any universe he wants. That's how he's able to stuff like that."

"Do we have any background on him? Family, his real universe, or anything?"

Connor chuckled, "We were so desperate one day to find out who this guy was because you know, he's not actually from this universe. His universe is a mystery, but if there's one of you, there's at least another one of you in another dimension. We DNA tested an entire high school, we were a bit harsher than intended, but a job is a job, and a job comes first. Eventually, we found a match. He was the last kid we expected if I'm being honest. From what we were told by his classmates, he was smart, just lazy with his work. He was a senior like you. Really tried fitting in."

"What was the kid's name?"

He looked at her.

"Miles Morales."


	2. Don't Look Back Now

_**QUICK AN: Miles Morales supposedly now best friend won't be in this. Quite frankly, I don't know if I can do much with the character and I feel like that's Peter Parkers best friend instead of Miles. I think it's Ganke or something? I don't know his name. So I'll let him develop bonds with created characters of my own. I'll try not to create too many OCs and focus on Miles a majority.**_

_**Anyways, enjoy the story.**_

* * *

_UNIVERSE 1610, BROOKLYN PRIVATE SCHOOL_

Freshmen year. Miles went through the double doors after trotting up the concrete stairs located at the exterior of the school. Meanwhile, passing by bodies of rushing and chattering students. The hallway was filled with an abyss of metal lockers that students tampered with. Classes were about to start soon. Sounds of opening and closing lockers, the loud conversations and laughter of the students filling the hallway as Miles cautiously sliced through the middle in a hurry to get out of the cluttered area. Students had a choice to either put their belongings in a locker or keep it at the back of the class. Miles always had chosen to do the latter just to keep an eye on his suit inside the bookbag.

"Did you hear about Michelle? OhmygodsheandBradtotallyhititofflastnight!" Miles overheard a female student chatter excitedly to her friends.

"Totally!" Another exclaimed mischievously.

Yeah, everybody was still definitely the same. However, one of the girls had beautiful blonde hair. It reminded him of something, or more specifically a place. The main hall near the stairs. Where he met _her._

_Gwen..._

A warmness bubbled into Miles' heart as her appearance briefly ziplined through his mind. He even smiled to himself a little. Then, a thought pursued.

_How in the world did she get into this school anyway?_

Miles pondered over the question for a moment, then simply let it go as it was really no point. All that matters is that she was _here_ and that _they_ met. Soon, they would meet again at some point. It had been a week. Miles presumed that she had school work to do too. Sophomore year in her universe was probably keeping her busy, and it was probably going to keep Miles busy here too, and he tried to painfully convince himself otherwise.

_No, definitely going to be busy. Teachers were relentless with work last year. What's going to make this year any different?_

Miles had actually asked one of the older students how easy Sophomore year would be as he felt a little anxious about it. Miles recalled a student describing it.

_"Oh yeah, sophomore year, the work is easy, but it can become overwhelming at times."_

_"Couldn't that apply to any grade?"_

_"Well sure, I guess, but it's all about how much of a procrastinator you are," The old teen chuckled, "Basically, you can easily hold yourself back while the work'll be easy. Sometimes it's even middle school work. The older you get the more you don't feel like doing anything but hanging with the compadres."_

_The senior looked out at the cafeteria, and Miles - curious to see what he was looking at - swiveled around as well. He then realized that the senior was merely just admiring the view of other students enjoying their food while talking with each other. Although, it was a weird admiration and Miles wondered where the senior's friends had been. _

_"Even then sometimes your friends form their own lives too. They change in a way you'll never understand. They can become... distant, and in a way, you're left in their dust, and they end up leaving you behind."_

_Miles looked into his eyes again, "And you can't change that? You can't change them and convince them that maybe they don't have to be."_

_"Don't be naive. People change. As much as you hate it people WILL change."_

_Miles was silenced by the intensity in his words._

_"And as you grow up, you'll change too. Maybe in a way, you won't like."_

_Miles had looked down at his food tray. A probably over-cooked burger and a handful of fries placed in a smaller, rectangular food tray. He feared that Gwen would abandon him. That's one of the fears that had bothered him for a while now. _

_Miles felt uncomfortable at the lunch table. They were the only two there. The older teenager from what he had heard by some people greeting him as they passed by said his name was Cant. Miles had no idea how often he sat alone at this table, there were at least two more empty seats, and the table was square-like. Miles sat at one said while Cant sat on the other._

_Cant apparently sensed the dread in him, and he pressed on, waving his hand dismissively, "Don't worry too much about it, kid. You'll get through it, trust me." He said as he threw another skinny, crisp fry into his mouth._

_Then he suddenly got up to leave as people were starting to clear out of the cafeteria, "And little bit of advice," The senior frowned at him hard, "you think about how inadequate you are, you're gonna be worse than what you perceive." _

The words sat closely to Miles as he suddenly snapped back into reality. The halls were almost completely cleared, and Miles didn't insist on being late again. His backpack was snug on his back. Miles thought he made a good decision not to put his Spidey suit in there, because someone might've stolen it, and also remembering that fact that Miles had not made that many friends here yet.

_Well, maybe that's not much of a bad thing. _

Miles began walking up the stairs, taking a left and going up the other set of wide stairs again. Taking his time not to trip over his intentional untied laces. Finally, he reached the top. He looked down the ile of classroom doors separately spread across the wall in front of him. Students were still walking into their designated classes so perhaps he wasn't late this time.

_Gwen's separated herself from everyone in her school for a while, and she's one of the coolest people I've met, probably the prettiest too..._

He smiled to himself.

_Her hair... her smile, her laugh..._

"Young man."

_She's probably the strongest too. Could probably kick my butt easily, considering she's been Spider-Man longer than me. _

"Young ma-"

Miles face brightened.

_Then again, I'd probably let her web me to the ground-_

"HEY!" Someone all but screamed into his ear! Miles recoiled and jumped back to glare at the guy taller than him by a few inches. Miles narrowed his eyes as his brows furrowed together in surprise and confusion.

"Watch where you're going!" The man had an uneven beard with badly cut brown hair. He wore grey janitors pants that stretched up to his calves which showed long black socks which were a similar color to the dirty, black shoes he also wore. To complete the janitor's outfit, he had a long sleeve grey shirt with a nametag on it. Miles didn't bother to look as he was paralyzed by the janitor's angry eyes.

Miles looked down on the hard, white floor and now realized tiny pieces of dirt were coming from his shoes, and that there were more dirt prints that followed suit behind him.

"S-sorry..."

"You were too busy smiling like a little creep, it was disgusting," He ranted on, "Probably thinking about some girl, weren't you? I wouldn't be surprised. All you tiny freaks are reaching _that_ age..."

Miles felt a little disrespected. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The janitor switched his mop into his right hand, "What they don't teach sex ed anymore? Do you even know about puberty?"

"Yeah, they do! B-but that's not what I was thinking about! And I do know a thing or two about puberty! Maybe more than you think!" Miles had yelled, but it did not come off as intense as he intended.

"Then what could you _possibly_ be thinking about to run into my precisely cleaned floors? You know how hard I work to better this school?"

"I'm sorry, it's just-"

"You _better_ be sorry. Now that this new year has started, more of you teenagers are going to come here messing up my work! It may be a paradise for you but it's hell for me. I want you to always understand that, kid. The mistakes you make can be a consequence for others, and the consequence for me is that-"

"I... messed up your floor?" It sounded silly coming out of his mouth.

"YES! You know what, I'm going to report this to the principal. Gonna tell him you were to busy probably gushing over some girl or something, or probably thinking about how you're going to fail some math test later!"

"How do you even know that there's a math te-"

"Because I'm an intergalactic alien spy that came here to infest your planet with green, strangely muscular babies that will take over that damn world!"

"Really?"

_"NOOOO!"_

Miles was sure other classes could hear his screaming. His hands were twitching from the boiling anger, his eyes were crazed and endangered like a wild animal. Miles could easily take him down if he tried to attack. Of course, he wouldn't but it was always good to be cautious of that. The janitor pulled out his left arm, pulling back his sleeve to reveal his hairy arms and a metallic blue watch strapped on his wrist. Miles eyes immediately widened.

The janitor smirked, "Seems like you're late for class, and you have no proper excuse note on you do you?"

This angered Miles. The crazy man delayed him, "Only because you were yelling at me for walking across a floor!"

"A floor that was clean! And then you have to walk up here with your dirty ass shoes and mess up everything! I have to eat y' know. Can't get paid if _your_ principal sees _me_ taking the blame for something I had already fixed! You're a dumb, kid you know that?"

"Hey! I get that you're angry over a _floor _but there was no intention behind it. It was a complete accident!"

The janitor walked closer towards him, slouching down slightly to send daggers from his eyes, "Don't yell at me you little insect!"

Miles bawled his fists and gritted his teeth, "I just did!"

"Can the both of you please, _quit_ your blabbering." It wasn't a yell, it wasn't a whisper, but the feminine voice had cut-throat anger and annoyance indented in her voice that made all of the arguing cease, and the two looked over behind Miles. She looked about Miles age, and her hair, colored black with brown dyed into a couple of strands of hair, wildly stretched just past her narrow jawline. Hair black with a hint of brown dyed into some of the strands of hair, and her eyes were black as well. She was wearing the school vest with the logo imprinted on it and a white dress shirt under it with a black tie, and the plaid blue and white skirt. Her feet and legs covered in black flats, and black leggings.

Her mouth drew into a hard, line. Brows furrowed into a small, frown.

"Mr. Cobolt," There, again, the same hint of annoyance was traced in her tone, "Should I also tell my principal or _your _boss that you... a co-worker of this school, insulted a student, raised his voice, disturbing nearly _every_ class on this hall, and making a student late for his class because of petty foolishness?"

The janitor, or Mr. Cobolt, was silenced. Miles knew the janitor wanted to fire an angry fueled comeback, but the student's points had bolted his mouth shut, and he was left humiliated. He looked back at the girl, and she had more determined and stubborn eyes instead of angry ones.

That was when the janitor finally gave in. He let out a sour sigh through his nose. Brushing his hand through his hair tiredly. His grip tightening on the mop as the anger slowly evaporated through his nostrils. He sent Miles a final angry look before returning back to his janitor duties. Miles watched him dip his mop into yellow janitor bucket filled with water then splattering it all over the floor where dirt prints lied.

Now only silence gripped the air.

And Miles sensed her gaze on him. He cautiously met her eyes, and for a moment Miles thought her eyes had softened as he looked into them. It was almost like there was a message ingrained inside of them: _You're welcome._ Miles pointed out. That's when Miles noticed that classroom doors on this hallway were open, and teachers were angrily peering out of them as he looked back and forth. When he looked back at the mystery girl, she had already been walking back into her own classroom. He looked at the blue rectangular nametag implemented on the wall next to the door she walked into.

_Class 1A, History. My class._

"Don't you got somewhere to be?" The janitor commented bluntly without looking up as he mopped the floor again. Miles thought about sending a sharp retort of his own, but he held himself back. One of the lessons he learned while being Spider-Man was that he had to never completely 'let himself go'. That's why it was better to move on.

That's when Miles started toward the classroom. Did he feel anxious? or maybe, excited? He didn't know which emotion claimed over him the most, but he wanted to compose himself.

_You've __fought criminals, monsters, and maybe demons, yet you're afraid of a classroom._

He stopped in front of the classroom door. The small rectangular window was completely covered by a poster sticking from the inside so he couldn't see how big the class was, and that only piled on the anxiousness. He didn't know how many eyes were going to be staring at him. He pressed his ear against the door, trying to listen in.

"Thank you, Alex, for the erm... help?" Miles assumed the deep, masculine voice was the teacher, and he also assumed the girl he just saw was named Alex. He expected to hear her voice again but she had no reply, or maybe Miles didn't hear it well enough. Then it was completely quiet. Miles contemplated for a moment, wondering what they were doing. Then he remembered that the start of every school year always started with a review. Perhaps, they were reviewing something Miles already knew, and it gave him a small dose of confidence.

"Today we will be learning about the Whiskey Revolution."

_Crap.  
_

And suddenly all of the tiny bit of confidence had been destroyed by those few words. Miles sighed. Brushing his hand down his face to get rid of any tiredness on his face.

"Is someone there?"

Miles' eyes widened, and the sound of footsteps started to slowly become audible. Quickly, he turned the knob and busted through the door like a bull.

"MY NAME IS MILES MORALES! AND I AM THE ONE AND ONLY SPIDER-MAN!"

* * *

As Adams slowly slithered through the vent, his eyes were assaulted with dirt and his nose was filled with the foul stench of rust. It made him suppress violent coughs on his way through, and everything about this mission felt dirty, the former officer thought bitterly. The cameras for sure saw both of their faces. Felton was either dead or somehow still breathing with his hands locked in cuffs. However, Adams severely doubted the latter. Felton and he had invaded their territory, though. Felton killed someone today. Even though it was a prisoner. Nothing good came out of this.

Adams had painfully remembered that he was a part of the scheme as well. It gave him an uneasiness to put his own two feet down on former territory. His arms and shoulders were starting to burn from fatigue. It felt like he had been crawling for an eternity, but slowly Adams counted the minutes on in his head, and soon he came across another air vent on his left. There he overheard a conversation between maybe two people, which made him reactively transfer into gentle, quiet movements, like a cat in the night.

Somebody had asked if they had any luck finding Adams in which the other officer replied, "No, sir. We even searched the prison cafeteria for him and there's still no luck." He overheard, which brought a tiny twinge of relief. Though, hearing his own name being categorized as a wanted criminal was no good dish for his head.

"So, let me guess this straight, one of our best officers here, is presumed to have worked with this deranged criminal escaping to different universes while committing crimes in those universes? And you're also telling me that this universe traveler just vanished into thin air?"

"Not thin air sir, but-"

"I don't care! What matters is that he got away and Adams... is still here," It had gotten eerily quiet, and Adams feared that he was accidentally heard, but thankfully the angry officer pressed on. "I want every cop we have to search the ends of the Earth for this man, and I want no hesitation to pull that trigger, do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!"

Adams thoughtfully furrowed his brows. Everything was falling apart for him, and because of that, he felt angry with himself as well as Felton. He needed time to think and digest what exactly was going on.

_But I can't do that here... not here._

Adams listened in, he heard a door open and shut with a loud snap. Then it got quiet again. Adams clenched onto his patience, waiting for the officer standing in the room to finally leave. Then, maybe Adams could make his escape.

"You know, it's not easy lying to my own co-workers..."

Adams had presumed that the officer was just talking to himself, but that was before he said again, "And you don't make it easier for me to have to save your ass... _Adams."_

Now it was painfully evident that Adams was caught. He gritted his teeth angrily for being so clumsy, but he let the feeling pass. He all positioned himself against the wall, opposite of the vent entrance door and gathered even energy to all but boot it out of its placement. Hearing the sound of it clatter against the floor. Adams slowly lowered himself down and landed on his feet.

He was in his fifties. Like Adams, they were the same police outfit. However, the man had a bigger, more complexly built badge, with stars that were obtained blue and yellow coloring. There was a word implemented on it and a name underneath it.

_Commissioner Magreti._

"You don't deserve to wear that badge, after what you pulled, y'know." The commissioner's back stared at Adams, but Adams could hear the disappointment in his words. Whether it was more clear than the anger that was in those words, he would never know.

Adams looked at his hands. They were dirty.

"I know... I know all too well."

The commissioner turned around to look him in the eyes to reveal his face of disappointment and frustration, "What happened to you, Adams?"

Adams glared at him dangerously, and a low growl pursued into his tone. "Don't you _dare_ hold me in your crosshair as the bad guy here. I. Had. No. Choice." Adams spat, "If I didn't follow what he ordered for me to do... he would have taken lives, commissioner, he would have killed me and you."

"Ever since you were initiated as a protector of this city, you were agreeing to put your heart near the flames. An officer must do anything to protect his city, no matter what kind of resistance he faces. By agreeing to do his bidding, you weren't thinking of your city, you were thinking of yourself. Sacrifice is a part of the job, and you forgot that, didn't you? You should have fought to resist him anyway."

"No, I'll never forget that, but that conniving piece of trash was going massacre all of you! I can't beat him myself! I've seen what he could do, commissioner, and he's one of those Spider-Men. What if he wanted more? What if he only came here for you? I was holding back the disaster he could spread on this city. After all, he did only come here to break out Fisk, or at least convince him to plan a break out himself. If I had sacrificed myself, I would have left you vulnerable."

_"I_ don't care if he could shoot popsicles out of his ass. _You_ don't cross that line!"

Adams went on, however, "And then, this place can't lose a leader like you, commissioner. I bet most of these people don't want to see you die of anything else but old age."

"Then, I must have influenced them in the wrong way. The only worthy death for an officer- a hero... is to die protecting what he loves."

Adams gritted his teeth, "Does there really have to be a worthy death? Does anyone have to die!?"

"Don't be naive, Adams. You and I both know that not everything will end in a happy ending. Don't be so _foolish_ to ever think that. You've had this job for too long."

"Commissioner, please... understand, that there was nothing I could do here. Killing him is out of my own criteria. I don't have the strength. What goods a sacrifice if it's all for nothing?"

Silence stood between them.

"I did what I had to do... and if you don't like it-"

The commissioner gave a slow reach for his gun, "Then we both know what has to go down here," He gripped onto the gun, pulling out of its holster, but did not point at it Adam's. Instead examined it, "I've had this gun for years. It's taken me to hell and back and I must admit, it's saved my ass more times than not. Because an officers gun is like a knights sword. They carry it around everywhere they go. Eventually, it becomes a part of them. Now, I'm using it to kill my own."

Adams thought that the commissioner was giving him his own gun. The gun he's had for years. "I can't take that."

"I know you can't Adams," The commissioner muttered darkly, "Because I'm not giving it to you," Then, with a sudden snap, the gun was aimed at Adams. The commissioner wore a face of anger and maybe, pain.

"I..." Adams words were stuck in his throat. He cautiously took a step back but was blocked by a desk.

A weak smirk caught the commissioners face, "It's funny isn't it, Adams? You lost your wife... your will to fight, and now your pride."

Adams jaw clenched.

"Have you ever killed before? Taken a life?"

"I can't say I have. Even with all my years gathered here, I still haven't, and trust me it bothers me every day. "

"Commissioner?" Someone had called outside, then proceeded to knock on the door. Adams' heart had struggled to function, and his mind was frantically thought of ways of escape again. He took a quick glance over his shoulder. Hoping to not make it obvious that the criminal was calculating his escape. However, the commissioner kept his gaze fixated on Adams. Intense, angry eyes. It fought to keep the gears from going in his head, making him feel overwhelmed.

"You were never afraid, were you, Adams? You never feared what would happen next. How it would all end. Because you had nothing to lose..."

Adams lip quivered, and the words could barely draw from his throat, "I did have something to lose, commissioner, and I lost _her."_ His voice cracked at "her".

"Adams?" The voice spoke back, "Adams!? Let me in commissioner, open this door!" The door turned and twisted wildly, "Commissioner, please!"

"I'm sorry... for everything that I've done, commissioner. I didn't want it to end like this. Not like this."

"Then why don't you give yourself up?" The commissioner dug deep into Adams' eyes for any sort of hatred, or anger. But he only found regret and sorrow. That's when the commissioner truly realized. _"Oooh..._ you want to live for her, is that the idea?"

And the question hit him harder than any other speeding bullet. Adams had dreaded the idea of living as a criminal... or at least running away as one, but he had to. He had to live for Rosie. "She always thought surrender was a cowards way out. I followed that belief myself, but now..."

"Now, you have no choice but to run. Which is something a coward would do." The commissioner finished. It seemed he was fully understanding the situation now.

"I see... so what will _you_ do?"

Ironically, the prolonged silence from Adams gave the commissioner the best response out of this scuffle. At least in his opinion. He felt a tiny twitch in his own hand. A very unfamiliar anxiousness starting to rise. He _could_ kill Adams here and now. He _could_ end this poor man's life right here and send him up with his wife. He _could_ save himself the trouble of chasing after two dangerous war criminals.

But he _wouldn't_ pull that trigger.

And with that, a pained expression crossed the commissioners face. His brows furrowed together to form a thoughtful frown, then he closed his eyes. Letting a sigh run from his nose. Adams had watched. Right now, he was prey in a predators vision. He could do nothing but stand and anticipate the worst. "I suppose, I can do you a favor... well, maybe it isn't a favor, not in your situation at least." He reopened his eyes, "I'm keeping you alive. You must pay for your troubles and your betrayal."

The commissioner now had completely placed the gun back in its holster. "Surely, you know this?"

Adams shamefully looked down at his shoes, "I do. I suppose you will be taking me in, now?"

"No."

Adams looked up at him with widened eyes. The commissioner began walking towards him. His expression was unfortunately unreadable. Adams with all the fighting that had commenced, expected a full assault. The commissioner stopped and was now standing still in front of him. He was taller than Adams maybe by two inches. The commissioner drew out his hand, in which Adams reactively flinched. Moving it slowly towards him as he kept intense eye contact.

And then landed it on Adams' shoulder. Adams gave him a bewildered expression, fully expecting a painful beating.

"Right now, Adams, I'm giving you a choice, and for this I want you to do me a favor." The commissioner took out his gun again. Adams wanted to grab it and make a run for it but something inside him, made him trust the commissioner. Something that made all fear burn out like a star.

"You are now blessed with a new goal. To live for her. To _fight_ for her. Against an enemy that you once allied, but also against an enemy that took everything from you. You will learn what it means to be a runner and a coward. But from this, will you gain strength and learn to become an adapter. Your life Adams... does not get easier here." He slammed the gun against Adams' chest, "And it _never_ will."

Adams grabbed the gun hesitantly. "Commissioner..."

"Save it." The commissioner walked back to the door. Moving the white, window blinds aside and taking a peek in the other room. "You take care of that gun, you hear? To remember that some people still give a damn about your sorry ass." A noise had brought the commissioner quickly on the alarm though. He stared at Adams, who was looking down at his shoes. Where his hair hid most of his face. Did... did he just hear a miserable sniffle? Did he just see a teardrop from Adams' face?

"I'm sorry..." His tone was weak and vulnerable.

The commissioner couldn't bring himself to watch as he cringed in disgust. "You don't get to be sorry. Not now, anyway. As I said, nothing gets easier from here."

"THEY'RE IN HERE! The commissioner is being held, hostage!"

He took a quick look behind the blinds again. There were hundreds of officers running towards the door, dodging past desks with guns withdrawn. The commissioner looked back at Adams who was looking at him.

"They'll know."

"Know what?"

The commissioner didn't expect Adams to be so gullible. Well, he should have expected it. Considering the circumstance.

"They'll know that I let you go. That I let _you_ live." The Commissioner sighed, "We don't have any other choice except for you to shoot me, and I know you're capable of pulling that trigger."

Loud banging against the door filled the noise in the room, drawing both their attention. "ADAMS! THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE!" The commissioner shot him a look. This _was_ indeed his last chance, and the choice he makes now will surely affect both of them.

Adams began to slowly draw the gun up to point at the commissioner.

"BREACHING IN THREE!"

"Goodbye, Commissioner Magreti."

"TWO!"

_BANG!_

And the sound of a body hitting the ground rippled through the room and the outside. There was only silence now in his ears, except for the sound of his own frustrated sobs, and the sound of his feet running back up to the vent.

* * *

_**UP NEXT: We take a look into Miles life as Spider-Man, and we see Gwen for the first time. Yes, there will be some lovey-dovey scenes do not worry. I'll try my best not to make it too... forced**. _


	3. New

"Mr. Morales, I presume?"

At that moment, Miles wanted to run. Runaway without ever looking back. He became overwhelmed with all the eyes intensely locked onto him and the temptation grew heavily as they stared. Sparing himself more of the embarrassment as time went on would have been easier than having to face any of this. However, they already saw his face, and students here were of course chatty. Running wouldn't help at all. Stories would begin to spread around the school like wildfire.

The teacher repeated his name, and he snapped out of his trance. Miles met the teacher's eyes that gleamed in impatience, "So you _are_ the late student then?"

Miles gulped.

"Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself? Do you at least have an excuse note for me?" The teacher fired questions that built on the anxiety dwelling inside. The questioning glares didn't help his nerves at all either.

"Well, I..." Miles felt as if the whole world waited for an answer; as if anything he said would have been immediately ridiculed. He shied away from further eye contact with the teacher and began talking slowly, "T-The teacher... Err, I mean janitor, distracted me. I would've been here if it weren't for-"

"You should've been in class anyway. You were late even before the janitor stopped you, so don't even think about giving that excuse." He scolded.

"But I..."

Miles heard the mild chuckling in the crowd of students. How embarrassing it was to get scolded in front of everyone! The worst part was that even he could've told the truth, but the constant quiet laughter erupting in the background put a block on his attempt to formulate anything. Everything that happened outside was completely accidental, but another part of his mind argued the outburst of him being Spider-Man was not. He wouldn't be taken seriously just because of that fact. Also because of the aggravated glare the teacher gave Miles.

"People like you need to learn that you'll get nowhere in life being late," The teacher spat sharply, "It's honestly pathetic. The least you could have done was give me some valid excuse, but you can't even manage that. Absolutely unbelievable. The chances of you ever being Spider-Man is damn slim by the way. You aren't even responsible enough to get to school on time nor are you responsible enough to be honest with yourself. Can't believe you had the nerve-" The teacher started to mumble to himself angrily. It felt as if the words took jabs at his heart, and now he could feel his face starting to flush. "Do you mind taking your seat, Mr. Morales? You're already tardy. You wouldn't want to go to detention would you?"

Without meeting the frustrated eyes of the teacher, he muttered, "Sorry," and began walking.

"Actually Mr. Hawkins, Miles wasn't tardy at all."

The room fell into a sudden hush.

Miles and even the students looked at the student who had spoken. It was a girl. The girl he had seen previously in the hallway before.

_Alex._

There were five rows of desks in total, and each of those rows consisted of five desks parked beside each other. She sat at the last row in the back, now, all eyes were locked on her. Unlike Miles however, her face was focused and stern. Unfazed by the looks being given. Miles looked back at the teacher to witness his reaction.

The teacher paused and looked back at her. "Pardon?"

"Well, according to last year's incident this isn't rare. He's had crazy outbursts towards the students before. Even if a student was merely walking too close to him he would irrationally berate them. He's even made me late for my class before."

"Mr. Morales was already late before we even heard those two yelling at each other outside," The teacher turned back to his board and began writing with his marker again. "I've said this already. Just stay out of it."

The room was silent again and it seemed the debate was over before it began. Although he was grateful for the attempt, it proved to be utterly inefficient and he could feel the rotten emotion of humiliation start to take over. The whispers resumed moving around the classroom. Miles caught a glance from a student, making Miles awkwardly lower his head and look at the ground.

"That's not true either."

It was as if timed stopped. Eyes were on her again. The room was in total silence after she spoke. Miles stared at her in disbelief. Why was she so persistent to defend him?

The teacher groaned, "What is it now?" He pointed up at the round clock on the wall, "See? Morales entered the room at nine-fifteen AM. Class started at nine-o-five. Ten minutes late exactly. Why is that hard to understand?"

"You didn't hear about the schedule change?"

"What?"

"The schedule change," She repeated. "Class doesn't start at nine-o-five anymore. It starts at nine-twenty. It was announced on the school website, just before school started. Matter-a-fact it was announced around several school districts. I thought someone like you would be informed about that."

"That doesn't excuse anything. He charges in here like he's on a damn battlefield, and barks out something a dirty drunk would say. Now, as angry as I am that this whole situation is still relevant, he could've sat down, and waited until class was over. And now _YOU _are deciding to argue?" He scoffed, "I could easily send you both to detention for disrupting the class. "

"I only disrupted the class because-"

"That's exactly it. You're disrupting. I now have a valid excuse to send you out of here too. Miles is late. End. Of. Story." And it was. Whispers began filling the classroom. Miles surely thought Alex would reply again, but she kept her silence. However, Miles saw her gaze was still fixated on the teacher, though it was hard to tell what her expression told at that moment. Then, her eyes start to shift left and right, giving each student a moment of acknowledgment. Something had pierced through that hardened, calm expression. It seemed like she was waiting for something. Looking for someone to do something.

_But to do what?_

"Um, Mr. Hawkins?" A male student piped up, his hair black and neatly combed, he also looked older than Miles.

The irritated teacher answered frustratedly, "Yes?"

"I don't think it's fair to mark the guy-"

"I don't _care_ what you think," He snapped. "I decided that he was late. As the teacher, I am the one that makes that call."

"With all due respect Mr. Hawkins, no you don't. The clock is the one who makes that call, and the clock says he wasn't late. Furthermore, I can also vouch for the fact that the same janitor made me late for Algebra class some time ago."

"Well, I-"

"Come to think of it, wasn't he the guy that got those two students expelled for instigating a fight? And some students think he made up lies to start it." Another student chimed in.

"And he made _me_ late for Science class!" said another.

"I was sent to detention because of that guy!"

"Please, quiet down!"

But no, soon a majority of students were sharing their own story and the classroom became loud with angry rants about the janitor. The teacher tried to yell over the crowd, but even it was out of his control.

Meanwhile, Miles looked around the classroom. As much as this was amusing, he didn't want part of any of this, he was embarrassed enough already. He took notice to an empty desk positioned in the middle of the third line of desks. Miles walked towards it and kept his head down while doing so. Standing in front of it, Miles began unstrapping his book bag from his back. Then he threw it around the back of his chair and settled himself down into the seat, having a decent view of the whiteboard at the front. He began to sink into the desk; a sigh escaping his lips as an unpleasant feeling nuzzled against the bottom of his stomach.

_I've barely been here for five minutes, and I already wanna leave._

His eyes dully wandered over towards the window. Through that clear, windowpane, he saw the bridge that connected both this building and the one across the street. The other building is where all the dorms were. This building obtained more of the classes and a cafeteria. What caught his attention though was how beautiful the outside was. The pale, cotton clouds slowly raced down the infinite path of empty sky, while vast buildings towered over the city. He fantasized himself swinging around in his suit, saving lives and making a difference. He would have done anything to be out there right now.

* * *

The teacher finally managed to settle the angry crowd down, but it wasted half of this period thankfully. Students in unison stood up and began packing up their books in rushed fashion as the bell rang. Miles himself started to rush out.

Hours later, all classes were finally over. Miles could feel the amount of homework nearly dragging him down. His half-hooded eyes glanced down the hallways He took a slow turn towards the stairs, placing a foot down on them, and slowly making his way up. As he passed by he could hear a lot of things. From gossips to some awkward teenager asking his crush out, to people laughing so very loudly. He could hear everything. _Everything. _Motivating him to rush to his dorm quickly and soon he reached his dorm.

As he put his hand on the knob to turn it, he noticed it was locked, but he didn't ponder over it too much and went in anyway. The warm satisfaction of not seeing another desk until tomorrow released some strain on his mind. He was still inevitably exhausted though. His eyes scanned around the room as he entered. One desk, two bunk-beds, two windows. It wasn't as spacey as Miles wanted it, but it was good enough. The floor was made out of hard, brown marble with a green carpet resting at the center. He figured his room-mate wasn't here yet, so he was given a choice. An obvious choice at that.

Glee danced in Miles's eyes, as he eagerly climbed up the small ladder in a matter of seconds while his bookbag slid off his back and hit the floor as well. Then, he embraced the bed like it was his own mother. He rolled around on his back and allowed himself to melt into the bed. All thoughts about homework, Spider-Man, and any other responsibility began to cruise away from his mind. He needed to allow himself to relax just this once.

_So exhausted..._

Moments later, his bookbag began to shake violently, but he ignored it.

Then it buzzed again, but again, he ignored it.

It kept going on for a while. He groaned angrily but continued to ignore it.

Was it getting louder? How could it possibly get _any_ louder?

Miles grabbed both sides of his pillow and covered his ears, but even the sound of it annoyingly reached his ears.

Eventually, the young student gave in, and he - with irritation powering his movements - got up and acrobatically sprung off his bed after letting out another crazed groan. He walked towards his bookbag. There, he stood in front of it and kneeled to start digging inside. However, he felt something hard hit his hand. As he began feeling around it, it felt like his phone, but he always kept his phone in his pocket. What was it?

Quickly he wrapped his fingers around it, and easily pulled it out of the bag. Upon closer examination, he realized what the device was. It almost replicated his own rectangular, flat phone, but it was smaller, and it's back was colored grey. He saw his reflection as he peered into the clear, black screen. Soon the fatigue that possessed Miles to throw himself into bed was overshadowed by mere curiosity. Then he started to slowly pick apart where he got this from.

**_1 Week Ago_**

_They stood on the rooftop of a building._

_"This is yours now. I want you to keep it very close to you. I made it myself."_

_"All the more reason I don't want to," Miles insisted, Gwen gave him a confused frown, and Miles felt shame start to grip him by his throat. Making his words nearly clog in his throat. "Gwen... I-I don't think I'm responsible enough to keep this. I'm afraid I might break it, and I-I don't want to break something you made."_

_Gwen gave a toothy laugh, "If you don't think you're responsible enough to keep a simple device," She poked him in the square in the chest; which is where his Spider-Man logo was located, "then you shouldn't be wearing this." Miles felt struck as he slowly realized the truth in those words. How could he be responsible as Spider-Man but couldn't be responsible as a friend? He and Gwen have been friends for over a year now. There was solid trust she had in him, and he had to show that he was worthy of being a good friend. Gwen proceeded to shake off her hooded and slip off her mask. She had the same hairstyle from when Miles ripped some of her hair off. Accidentally of course, but he still was sorry for that. However, it suited her so well though._

_Then, he met the gentle embrace of her blue eyes, and his heart started to pound. What was this feeling? Why was he so nervous? He snapped back to reality when she gently grabbed his wrist and put the phone inside of his palm._

_"Gwen-"_

_"No."_

_"But-"_

_"Nope!"_

_"I-"_

_"Miles!"_

_He wanted to argue, but it was completely clear her mind was made up. How could he deny her anyway? He sighed and clenched tightly onto it but not looking as sure as he felt. He grabbed it from her hand and then stuffed it into his pocket. "Fine, I'll keep it."_

_"Good, because I have something else for you to keep." She dug her right hand into her pocket, "You have a universe-phone, now you need..." Gwen pulled out something else. It was built like a watch, but it was long and lightly built._

_"What's that?" He asked._

_"It's a universe jumper. Much like the phone in your hand, it was built by me. I can choose up to three universes and can travel to them almost instantaneously."_

_"Why only three?"_

_"It doesn't have enough power to travel to multiple. Unless you have some powerful electrical source stored somewhere then you can only travel to three and it usually takes a full day to charge, so you can only travel twice. One to another universe, one back. The universe phone in your hand isn't powered much differently. Much like your regular phone, it has a battery that will need to be charged also. You can only message two people per universe."  
_

_Miles figured he would only need to add Gwen though. So that detail wasn't massively important to him._

_"Okay," Miles nodded and took the watch from her as well. "I'll try my best."_

_"I know you will," Gwen brought up her arm and started to tamper with her white watch, "It's time for me to leave though. My father will be looking for me, and I think I'll start glitching soon."  
_

_Miles' hid the slight disappointment slowly growing on his face._

_"I'll see you soon okay?"_

_He looked down at the watch and gloomily muttered to himself, "I hope so..."_

_"Hmm?"_

_Miles' eyes widened, "Nothing," he fired quickly and forced a smile, "Cya later."_

**_Present_**

She gave him a small smile and disappeared. That was all Miles could remember at the time. However, he now knew the true purpose of the device, and he felt the excitement start to well up inside of him. He could finally speak to Gwen again he realized. It had been maybe a week already. He tapped the screen with his finger and it turned on with sudden brightness. It showed a message, "Hello." Then it began showing ellipsis, indicating to Miles that it was loading. After a short while, two names appeared. Gwen, and Harry.

_Who's Harry?_

Miles felt the phone start to vibrate violently and then the number one popped up beside Gwen's name and with his finger, he clicked on it. Her name now moved towards the top of the screen, and John's name completely disappeared from the screen. This was probably the chatroom Miles assumed.

**FROM GWEN:** **Is it**** working yet?**

So it did work.

**FROM MILES: ****Yeah, I can't believe it.**

Miles felt a tiny twinge of regret.

**FROM MILES: Well, I can believe it, it's just... you're amazing.**

Five seconds went by. The messages won't immediately be received by the receiver because of the different universes. Which made sense to Miles. He had an excuse if Gwen just mysteriously stops responding to his messages.

**FROM GWEN: thx, lol. I never thought I would get anywhere with creating stuff like this, tbh. I was only thinking of a way for me and you to stay in touch. Not anything big.**

Miles absentmindedly began typing extremely fast.

**FROM MILES: Have you ever thought of becoming something more than Spider-Gwen? You're smart enough to become a scientist or something right?**

After the message was sent, Miles felt satisfied with himself. That was a good conversation starter he told himself. Seconds passed by, however, and it was more the usual duration. Miles waited, staring at the screen, waiting for another message to pop up, but seconds passed into minutes, and patience turned into blinded hope. She wasn't going to reply, but Miles didn't want to settle on that fact. He now laid on his bed, a thick cloud of hopefulness tightening around his mind. Eventually, he dozed off, and dreadful minutes turned into hours.

Finally, his eyes shot open. He looked outside and saw that night was starting to approach. She must have texted back by now, he thought, and excitement filled him. He grabbed the universe phone beside him in a frantic and crazily looked at the screen in anticipation. This had to be it he assured himself, and as he examined the screen the mask of glee soon slowly departed. Now, he felt a void fill his stomach. He tried to convince himself maybe she didn't see it yet, but it had probably been hours. His eyes shifted toward his bookbag, where his suit was showing. Maybe he should find a better hiding spot he told himself. His roommate could've walked in here and seen it.

He climbed down the bunk-bed lifelessly. Walking towards his bag and grabbing his suit. Miles hadn't gone on patrol all day. He should probably be doing his homework, but Spider-Man was more important. Although, he knew it was going to bite him later. He looked up at his phone on the bed.

_Maybe I should take it. Just in case._

He stuffed his suit back in the bag, jogged towards his bed, and reached up to grab the phone, then proceeded to stuff it into his pocket. After a minute of checking if he forgot anything, he exited the room, closing it softly behind him. He transferred into a steady jog, opening the double doors that led to the bridge that connected the dorm building and the building with the classrooms. Soon, as he picked up the pace, he pushed through the double doors. Now, he was on the upper floor, just below his escape point. It was dark as expected, and all the lights were cut off. Luckily, streetlights from the outside gave the interior some brightness. It also helped Miles see clearly.

He jogged towards the railings and looked down. Much to his dismay, there were two patrollers with flashlights that strolled across the floor. Inspecting the hallways down on that floor. He had to figure out a way to distract them somehow.

_Or maybe sneak by them._

A door started to creak open, and Miles' heart jumped.

_A teacher in the classroom? At this time?_

Miles mind starts to dig for ideas, his eyes scanning around looking for a place to hide. The distance between the classroom door opening and him were not that big. Whoever was coming out would see him immediately. A trash can was just ahead of him, and he did not think twice. Miles immediately broke into a dash and crouched behind it; he tried to make himself smaller but to know for sure that he was completely hidden they would have to look over here. Chances he didn't want to take. However, Miles overheard two voices.

"So about that Morales boy..."

_Of course, they're talking about me, why wouldn't they? Made myself look like an idiot earlier._

"What about him Mr. Hawkins?"

"You stood up for him earlier today. That was kind of you."

The girl replied without any sharpness laced into her tone, "It wasn't kind of you to yell at him, and you were also wrong. You were going to give him something he didn't deserve."

"Maybe I did let my anger get a hold of me. I take my job very seriously. Serious enough to where I can get very emotional about it."

"I suppose that's understandable. I'm sorry for going against you."

"Seeing that you were standing up for someone, it's easily justified. You have nothing to worry about," The teacher replied sympathetically.

_That girl, Alex, and my history teacher._

"I don't feel anything for him by the way."

Mr. Hawkins chuckled, "I never implied that Alex."

"Oh..."

Miles knew she had to be embarrassed from an assumption like that.

"I've just never seen you do something so lively."

"They were both disturbing the class. You heard them too, didn't you?"

"I did. I was actually going to say something myself, but I suppose you were more frustrated than me."

It went quiet for a second. "That janitor also had no right to yell at him like that. I think anyone else would have done the same thing."

"Maybe, but I didn't think someone like you would."

Miles heard a door shut, then heard footsteps coming his way. That allowed for the panic to flare up in his body.

"Goodbye, Mr. Hawkins."

"Goodbye, Alex."

He looked behind him. Miles thought maybe he could make a run for it. If he ran as quickly as he could, she wouldn't even see his face, but that was too much of a risk though. Maybe he could've pushed the trash-can towards her and distract her? No, she might get hurt. She was closing in on him now. To find him hiding behind a trash can, how embarrassing that would be! Especially in front of the girl that had just stood up for him. What kind of the first impression would he set? What would she think of him? What _did_ she think of him? He, after all, got scolded by the teacher and he could already see the funny looks people were going to give him in that class. Why did everything have to be so-

And all thoughts suddenly ceased. He looked up beside him and saw that Alex was now staring down at him, books clenched tightly to her chest and a long minute of uncomfortable eye contact shared between the two.

"Um..." Miles forced a smile, "Hi...?"

Miles thought he caught a slight narrow in her eyes, and a skeptical fired at him for a brief second, but again, she managed to hold this blank expression just like before. She cleared her throat and looked away without a word. Then, pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and just walked off, as if she didn't see a thing. Miles himself was shocked she didn't call a teacher. She could've mistaken him for some type of stalker, yet she just walked on. Nonetheless, he was thankful, and there was no time to think about it now. He slow-jogged his way towards the stairs and crouched as he approached the first step. On the lower floor, he listened in, watching Mr. Hawkins, the History teacher waving at the two guards.

"Later, fellas," said Mr. Hawkins.

"Cya tomorrow, Terry." One guard replied. The other guard walked down another hallway, and Miles watched Mr. Hawkins make his exit. Now all he needed to do was figure out a way to get past those guards. The guard that said his goodbyes went back to work going down a hallway located on the opposite side of where other guard went. Miles cautiously moved down the steps, keeping his eyes forward, making sure the guards were occupied, and soon enough he stepped down from the stairs. Another set of stairs stood in his path, that glared straight at the doors of freedom, but the other guard was coming back.

Miles rushed back to the top of the stairs from where he came. The guard stood in the center of the main hallway, and after a few minutes, the other guard came back to talk with him. Miles crouched and kept his head lowered. The darkness acted as a factor for him to hide, but he could almost barely see anything now.

"You check upstairs. Heard last year there were some students stealing answers from inside the classrooms by sneaking around at night."

"Seriously? Why don't they just lock the door?"

"Million dollar question is why rationality is such a rarity in this school."

The other guard laughed at that, "Probably the cafeteria food. It's always the cafeteria food. Anyways, I'll go check."

They departed afterward. The guard was approaching the first set of stairs and Miles broke into a hasty retreat, hiding behind the trashcan again. He was starting to get frustrated. It may have been time to use his web-shooters he thought. He peaked around the trashcan again, watching the guard walk up the second set of steps. Miles whipped his bookbag off his back and placed it in front of him, but also keeping it close to him to keep it hidden. He unzipped it and began digging inside. Moving past his suit and books that he had left inside. Eventually, he felt two pairs of the web-shooters built like flexible watches, and he grabbed both of them in one hand. He took another quick look around the trashcan and now the guard was checking if the doors were locked; luckily keeping his flashlight aimed at the doorknobs, which brought enough time for Miles to quickly strap on his watches.

He took one more slow look around the trashcan. The guard was checking the final classroom door on this hallway. He was probably going to come over here next which activated a sudden instinct. Miles closed his left eye and only narrowed his left. He shifted his hips, eyeing the wall a long distance away from him. He squared his shoulders and...

_THWIP!_

The sound of the web was louder than what Miles wanted after it released, but the web smacked against the wall, and the guard instantly looked and pointed his flashlight towards the wall. Miles used the opened opportunity to run over towards the railing and hopped over. It was a long fall down, and he probably would have broken his legs if he didn't have his powers. Miles now stood on the path of the left hallway. Freedom was close, and his landing was near perfect.

"What the hell was that?"

However, it was loud as hell.

_Crap._

"Who's there!?"

Miles ran for it. Now he didn't care if they were chasing after him. He ran as fast as he ever could.

"Stop! Who are you!?"

He ran past lockers after he took a wide turn into the entrance hallway which is where the double doors of freedom were. However, besides his own, he could hear the officer behind him sprinting as fast as he could as well. He was surprisingly quick too, but Miles had him beat thanks to his enhanced abilities and with all of his might he burst through the doors and stepped out into the street.


End file.
